


Because in the end, nothing else matters but you

by ThatWALKERKid



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, MSR was always a thing, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:06:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22896136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWALKERKid/pseuds/ThatWALKERKid
Summary: Obviously, this story surrounds Scully having cancer, but I’ve taken creative liberties and i wrote what I wanted to.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for one of the best people on this planet. She’s kind, caring, supportive and this world, my existence is better for knowing her. 
> 
> As in the summary, I wrote this with no strict timeline or place in the series, and wrote what I wanted to write. I shouldn’t have to say this but, if this story isn’t your thing, that’s fine, but I write for no one in particular and all thoughts are my own and do not have to adhere to predetermined storylines and if u don’t like where I’ve taken it, please be kind and respectful if you choose to comment. We are all here for the same reason and it takes a lot to put urself/ work out there. 
> 
> I love and appreciate all the comments and kudos... 
> 
> Let me know what you think. 
> 
> All the vibes. Melxx (@theQueerwriter)

* * *

The crisp white walls and sterile smell bit at her senses. It was clinical and methodical and just. It wasn’t foreign territory, it was a huge part of her life; well her life in the before. In the now, it signalled a shift in her existence; the very walls she had come to command such respect I , now housed her inability to prevent her biological processes from attacking themselves.

It was science and medicine and knowledge; all of which failed her how. Everything calm and quiet and logical gave way to anger and hurt and desperation. Her anger has simmered and built until she could no longer contain its white hot heat and it spilled over onto everything and everyone she touched.

Everything she’d ever known couldn’t help her now. She was a doctor for Christ sake, a woman of science and yet that very essence mocked her. In the beginning, denial had been her comfort and solace; it was neither logical or helpful but it allowed her to hold herself together long enough to prepare the few people she trusted wholeheartedly for what was coming.

She’d trusted in the science and the medicine to give her the answers she now despised. She knew there was nothing to be done now, that all that was let was to wait for her body to let the invader win over completely, to ravish her mind, her strength and finally take her from the corporeal existence that had been her life.

Scully prayed to god often now; more than she had in recent times. Not for her own salvation but for that of Mulder. She asked god to forgive her for leaving him, for breaking his spirit with her logic when she’d told him to stop and let things just happen; this was it she’d said, there was no more to be done and she wouldn’t have him destroying himself.

His desperation to do something, anything to save her, had permeated every aspect of his being; he had become reckless and selfish in his pursuit; until she had held his hands in hers, her eyes pleading, telling him that this was happening to her, this was her demon to fight. She’d watched him break with realisation , with a tortured self blame settling into his heart.

She too, had been desperate in the beginning. Desperate to hold onto herself, onto what they had with each other because she knew that as soon as he’d found out he’d make it his personal mission to save her; the weight of their worlds on his already burdened shoulders and she couldn’t watch him try and fail to save someone he cared about yet again. 

His emerald green eyes had welled with tears, bottom lip quivering as his heart broke for her, for his lack of ability to save her, for her strength and his weakness in not being able to stop for her sake. His head had fallen against her stomach as his legs had given way, knees grazing the hard floor at her feet. She’d cradled his head as he’d sobbed, her body shaking with the force of each one. 

Her own legs had eventually begged her to kneel and his arms locked around her, chin in the crook of her neck, hands holding onto her hospital gown for dear life. His sobs eventually subsided and he’d retrieved himself from being wrapped up in her, eyes red and puffy and full of things unsaid. She’d shaken her head, a silent plea for him to hold onto the secrets he held, the ones threatening to spill from soft, perfect lips. His head had bowed with a small nod and he lifted her up in his arms and back onto her hospital bed. 

She’d then banished him him from the place; protests coming thick and fast. She’d needed to process and having him here would only cloud her thoughts and disallow any chance she’d have of letting herself off the hook, of forgiving herself her weaknesses, for allowing herself to love him knowing what she knew now. She knew she couldn’t blame him, his charms, intelligence or wits for her having fallen I love. She was the sole bearer of that blame and had been from the moment they’d met.

The drip in her arm, feeding her body nutrients that the cancer cells were stealing, the only intervention she had now, the rest had been proposed and deemed un useful in her case. So, there she sat, harsh light illuminating her from above, notebook and pen in hand, trying to commit to paper just what, if anything she had left to say; to the world.... to Mulder.

She’d stopped and started and rewritten its beginning many times over; a conflict with herself about telling the truth, the one she’d known all along, the one she’d wasted so much time fighting and wholly denying. 

“As my knowledge, intellect and logic fail me, I can only turn to the tangible, real things I can feel, that I can touch, the things I can now only grasp with my physical being, with my emotions. I’m both lost and held together by the fact that the only constant I could ever truly count on, is you. Your steadfast belief in me, against all odds, trials and tribulations, allows me to face this end with dignity and courage. It fills my heart and soul with the deepest hues of hurt to know that I am leaving you to navigate this life without me. But I want you to take solace from knowing that each moment with you made my life so much better, enriched my soul and broadened my understanding of love. You aren’t alone in this life mulder, nor will you be when I find you in the next. Make no mistake, I will find you again, because we aren’t done.. I’m not done loving you. I can only pray that my memory and love will sustain you and allow you to carry on. I love you fox... you can’t give up, because if you do, they win... and the truth... is still out there. Always, Dana.”

As she put her name to the letter, a soft wrap against the door frame pulled her back into the present. Ear making the page, she put the book on the table next to the bed and took a deep breath before turning to see who the visitor was. 

Mulder. 

Of course it was Mulder. Of course he couldn’t stay away, no matter how much she’d protested him to do as such. He stood leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on his lips. 

“Hey...”

His voice was like velvet to her ears, it slipped over her, coating her in a warmth she didn’t think she would feel again. Her voice betrayed her, so an extended hand towards him was all she could manage. He obliged of course, he always would and as his hand slipped into hers, the world stopped. It was just her and her guy, and nothing else mattered in that moment. She wasn’t sick, she wasn’t dying, she was just Dana Scully and he was just Fox Mulder. 


	2. All he could ever hope to be is enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder being Mulder... but eventually coming to terms with his needed part in Scully's cancer journey. written as mulder's part of Scully's chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided a 2nd chapter would be nice for this fic, this time from Mulder's perspective. Its not what happened and isn't to story or canon but I write what I want i guess and like to explore emotions and different avenues to things. i think creatively it should be something that is celebrated rather than what it most often is, torn apart. but i Hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Let me know what you think.
> 
> All the vibes. 
> 
> Mel xx (@theQueerwriter)

* * *

The amber liquid burned as it slipped passed his lips, danced upon his tongue and cascaded down his throat. The pain a welcomed sting in contrast to the heaviness that had settled in his heart. He was feeling sorry for himself, drowning his sorrows in a dive of a bar that no one would remember him having been in. His solitude and position was self inflicted; he had pushed and pulled at the frayed edges of her and she’d fallen apart, telling him to go and let her be, that his presence was causing more pain than she could bare. He wanted to fix it, to put her back together, but all he’d really done was made this situation about him; just like he always did.

Mulder tapped the worn mahogany of the bar top in front of his glass to signal the bartender another drink was required and watched as the glass filled once again. Everything seemed to swirl and blend together as he sat and looked into the glass, begging for it to reveal its secrets and tell him the answers. He already knew the answers though, Scully had given them to him as clear as day. There was nothing that could be done and that she wanted him to stop, to relent in his position of always trying to save her. She didn’t need saving; she never had, but his selfish need of her, for her, had always pushed him into making decisions that made it impossible for anything else to be done, but for him to save her. Everything that had happened to her over the time they had been partners, truly was a condition of his arrogance and inability to let things go.

Now she lay in a hospital bed, afflicted by demons, she as a doctor should be able to fight, but cant and he struggled to let her make the decisions, let her control how things were going. He normally wouldn’t have given her a choice, he’d just run in all guns blazing for no other reason than for the fact that he loved her and didnt want to lose her.

Oh how he loved her; had always loved her. 

They had both danced around each other. Each step a deliberately choreographed moved, made to avoid the inevitable crash they both saw coming; of course it wasn't going to stop anything, it was always going to be this way. Mulder didnt believe in a higher power but he believed in Scully and her belief in him; however inherently flawed that belief was. He knew it was something that would put her in danger and he'd tried so hard to not let her hold a piece of him in her heart and soul but he too had grabbed a hold of her perfection and hollowed out a cavity in his heart for her to exist in; until she’d grown and blossomed into this masterpiece that painted every part of his being with colors ever so brilliant. 

Taking a sip from the glass, allowing the liquid to overcome him again, he felt an anger rise within him; a tide of selfish wants and needs. 

Scully has cancer. Incurable, nothing can be done with modern medicine to keep her with him forever.

The thought hit him like a rock, thrown, shattering a window; pieces of the glass flying in every direction, piercing everything around him. He swallowed thickly to try and conceal the sob rolling through his chest. He was losing her. She was going to leave him here, alone. She had stopped fighting, had given up. 

No. 

He sculled the rest of the glass and let it clatter to the counter; its see through surface distorting the wood beneath it. 

No, she hadn’t given up. There was just nothing that could be done. He’d come to learn that about life. That there were times that nothing could be done and trying to force things to work just made everything worse. He didnt want that for her. His anger then turned to sorrow; a blackening hole in him, a realisation of just how much harder he'd made all of this for her. 

It was his M.O. 

He’d profiled so many people and yet it just dawned him what was really important in this situation; what had and always would be important. Scully and her knowing that he was there for her, that her choice was okay and he'd be there. 

Throwing a bunch of twenty dollar bills on the counter, he stood and walked out of the bar into the cool evening air. He took a deep breath and let the chill battle against the warmth of the Alcohol in his blood; he wasn't drunk but wanted to be as clear minded as he could when he spoke to Scully. She’d sent him away but he hadn't gone far, the bar a few blocks from the hospital. He almost laughed, that maybe this was always going to be how this went. He was always going to be angry and then drink him self to a realisation that he was the ass getting in the way of everything as usual. He turned on his heels and began the walk back to the hospital; knowing that he was breaking her again by coming back after having been told he wasn't wanted there but he needed her to know.

She was his best friend. The one thing he could always count on, even when he was sure that he couldnt. She had always been there, against all odds, against his stubbornness, pigheaded nature, she had made herself a home within him and gave him everything of herself, right up to the very end. 

She loved him. Oh how did she love him.

The words had never been spoken but he knew that with each sunrise and minute that passed, she had loved him wholly, had loved him fully, had loved him despite of himself. He needed her to know that there is nothing in this world that would ever dim the light she’d let into his life, nothing that could leave him wanting like her smile, her touch, her beautiful intellect. He knew it was selfish and as he looked at his feet, one step closer, two step closer, he noted the fact that he could only ever give her a fraction of what she’d given him but if that fraction could be right in this moment, a minute of him and her just existing without his need to push, it would be all he could ever hope for. He needed her, and she needed him now more than ever… needed him…. needed fox.. Not “spooky” mulder, not special agent Mulder, chasing shadows in the dark, just Fox.

The bright lights of the hospital caused him to look up and he steeled himself to let everything else stay right at his feet, to leave it all behind as he stepped across the threshold to her. The doors before him opened and he’d walked in; the elevator ride barely registering in his mind. He made it all the way to her room and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her; her red hair haloed by harsh light but still perfect in every way, pen and notebook in hand. He leant against the frame and just looked at her, taking her in, committing her to memory once again, just like he’d done a million times before. After a few moments, his knuckles had tapped against the frame of the door and he watched as her eye lids fluttered shut, closing the notebook and breathing for a moment. She’d looked up at him then and he'd smiled warmly, the sight of her triggering an automatic response of delight. 

“Hey…”

It was all he could manage and it seemed to be all she needed as she extended a silent hand towards him, beckoning him into her. 

And in that moment, it was enough, as her fingers laced with his, nothing else mattered; it was just him and her. Lovers that the stars had crossed, that the universe had exploded galaxies to unite and that was enough.


End file.
